From Another Place
by bibliosaurus-rex
Summary: "I look to my dearest Celaena and do not look away." There is someone who loves Celaena, who looks down and watches her suffer. HE wants her to be happy, but cannot change her fate. Spoilers for the whole series up to the end of Heir of Fire. Angst. Semi-drabble. Rowaelin.


I have travelled to almost every part of the King's empire, and heard its native people speak of heaven. My favourite among the tales was the Eyllwe myth; of a substanceless place from which you can look down and see your loved ones' lives. Your soul lives on, an echo of your body, and once those you cared for die, even that echo fades. So as I die, I think of that place, and see it in my dark sleep.

I look to my dearest Celaena and do not look away.

I see her suffer. For a long year in Endovier, cursing and toiling. Her mind is strong, but her body grows weaker and weaker. For a while I fear she will join me.

But then a prince finds her, splashed with the blood his father has spilt, and whisks her back to Rifthold. Her hate begins bubbling over. I watch her fight, burning through the darkness imbued in that terrible palace, holding her own against the odds. Kissing the bloodstained prince, dancing with him, telling him about me. I hate to see the tears in her eyes when she says my name.

There are shadows of the future about her. Dark words tracing her tattoos and gloom about her ears. I cannot see what I will not know.

She is promoted to King's Champion, and her hatred burns so brightly, the smoke blocks my view. There is a man, not the prince, his hands drenched in black blood. He tries to put out the flames. I watch them kiss. There is something else brewing, but I cannot see for the anger.

I smell sweet lotus blossoms behind me, and turn to see the echo of a woman. She is tall and dark and beautiful.

 _Are you watching the Princess too?_

Princess? There is only Celaena.

 _I am sorry, for what I have done to her. It is necessary._

I realise where I recognise the flaming soul from, remember it gleaming beside Celaena's own brightness. It is Eyllwe heaven, and I suppose it is right she watches from here.

 _You are Sam._

I smile as I hear my name. It has been many years since it was said without pain. Nehemia turns back to the searing light of Celaena.

She no longer kisses the Captain of the guard. There is more blood on him, not just black Valg blood, but innocent Eyllwe red too. He has a scar on his cheek, and Celaena's fingerprints in the cut. She smoulders with hate when she sees him. The prince, his snowy soul splattered with more blood, comes back into her life. The darkness in the castle broils, and they burn against it.

Suddenly I think my eyes are lying to me, because whilst the princeling has power my Celaena has more. She is pouring blue wildfire into another world, protecting her friends. I see her other form, painful and beautiful. I see the truth, painful and pure.

Chaol is soaked in blood now, dripping with guilt as he sends her away. Her light is sputtering. Her body is strong, but her mind grows weaker and weaker.

 _Do not let that light go out._

The world grows darker. My lungs empty, and my soul is gasping, coughing.

She is fading.

Celaena is fading.

She is drowning in air and sorrow and rice wine. We cannot breathe. Nehemia tries to take her hand, but she is too deep. Hot tears evaporate on a terracotta roof. Months without a bath leaves her dirty with emotion. I choke on the nothingness.

Darkness creeps in the edges, darker and more eternal than the Valg. A final death, drawing in around the edges of my eyes. Celaena is dying and so am I.

A gust of air. Something, filling her up. Cradling her. It is like a feather bed and a full, deep breath. Suddenly we are here again. I smell pine. I smell fresh breeze. I smell hope.

I smell Fae.

Not just the white-haired male; a whole castle, crawling with half-Fae. An older couple,that feed her and help her. A young boy that smiles at her. They are re-building her, but I cannot see what they are making her into. I cannot see what I will not know.

The flame begins growing. I like Rowan Whitethorn. He gives her strength. He is washing away all the blood and dirt that made Celaena Sardothien, and his clear air fans her flames. They begin to set the forest on fire, and it is going to spread across the continent. I am proud of her strength, and I am glad she has Rowan to lend her more.

She doesn't always look like Celaena these days. There is something in her long limbs, her feline grin, her fire. It has another name.

I am glad for Rowan. He tells her what that name is.

I do not hear. I cannot see what I will not know.

She is flying back across the sea. Her prince is melting in darkness. Her captain is awash with imperial blood. There are more people who love her there, who will help rebuild her kingdom. A cousin. An old enemy.

Rowan takes the last piece of Celaena away. She lays a stone on my grave.

And as Celaena Sardothien vanishes, so do I.


End file.
